GovernessForaWeek

by Barbara Miller

  “Thank you, Morris. I wonder what made her decide to come. What does she know now that she did not before?”

  “I think it has something to do with that pair of footmen she lent to help decorate the ballroom. When they returned she interrogated them.”

  “And discovered what?”

  “That you and Wyle had left the city together. At least that you were not here but that your mother was. Don’t you see? If she tells people you went away with Wyle unchaperoned, your reputation will be ruined even if he does marry you. It’s not fair, what she does to people.”

  “Thank you, Morris. I will never forget your loyalty in this matter. I must find Wyle.”

  “He was in the card room—the library.”

  She set out for the room named but stopped herself. This was no time to be pitching headlong into disaster.

  “Wait,” Morris said. “You should not fetch him. Let me.”

  “Would you? Ask him to meet me at the entrance to the dining room. It’s almost time to go into supper anyway.”

  When Wyle entered the ballroom and glanced about for Marian, the musicians finished a set and their rest signaled that the supper was about to be served, that and Trumby throwing the double doors open with his white-gloved hands. Morris was easily rattled but he had a feeling Marian needed more from him than his arm in to supper.

  Wyle made his way through the laughing crowd to Marian. “What is it?” he asked as he led her to the head of the table. The room was packed with extra tables and chairs and they had only a moment to talk before others surrounded them.

  “Morris reports that his mother planted two spies in the household, a brace of footmen, who informed her we were both away for the best part of a week without Mother.”

  “That tears it. I thought some people were looking at me oddly.”

  “I have been getting the same sort of stares but only after Isabelle arrived. I hope Aunt Flora takes Charlotte upstairs now. Things could get ugly.”

  “I saw them going. Look, there is Morris bringing your mother in to dinner.”

  “Whatever happens, Morris is our friend.”

  “And Aunt Alva has captured Mr. Hill for escort.”

  It took many minutes for the entire company to find seats. Alva had not invited three hundred after all or at least no more than a hundred or so had come. The murmuring abated when Cousin Bertram rose to propose a toast to their engagement. It was a wonderful toast, full of well wishes that caused Isabelle to fume in her seat. Many ladies gazed at her with fascination as though watching a powder keg about to blow.

  After they had all drunk, Wyle rose. “Thank you, Bertram Meecham for that glowing sendoff but I have to report that we are a sham.”

  Marian sucked in a breath for this was the script of her nightmare, the one where Wyle called the engagement off.

  Wyle reached for Marian’s hand and pulled her up and to his side. “This wonderful lady became my wife well over a week ago by special license. In short, we eloped.”

  Peals of laughter were followed by applause and the clinking of glasses.

  Edward rose unsteadily to his feet, crumpled the paper where he had writ the second toast and tossed it over his shoulder. “Congratulations, Cuz, and to you Lady Wyle, my condolences and hopes that you shall be able to manage this madman better than his family has.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Ridgeway. I am happy to call you cousin as well.”

  “It’s a sham,” Isabelle said.

  Mr. Hill leaped to his feet. “I assure you they are man and wife for I performed the ceremony myself with Lady Elizabeth as witness. Let me add my congratulations, sir and to your lady as well.”

  “Lady?” Isabelle was on her feet now, her cheeks flaming as she shook off Sophie’s restraining hand.

  Morris raised his eyes to heaven in either fervent prayer or casting up all hope.

  “There is nothing ladylike—“

  “We should not omit the reason for the couple’s so hasty elopement,” the vibrant voice of Lady Elizabeth said.

  Marian stared at her mother standing proudly before the group with a voice of command so marked that the room stilled. “We had word that my husband, Major Greenway, was held prisoner in a coastal town in France. Lord Wyle engaged a ship and because of her mastery of French my daughter thought it prudent to go with him as his wife. With the aid of Mr. Hill, they rescued Major Greenway. He is even now rejoining his troop and on the way to Paris to celebrate our victory over the French.” She held up her glass.

  With this announcement a mass of cheering erupted and more than one glass met its tinkling end with the resulting toast. Marian glanced at Isabelle who fled the ballroom. Sophie was about to follow her when Morris slid closer to her and whispered encouragement in her ear. Marian smiled at the girl and she sniffed and nodded. At least they could keep these two in the fold even if Isabelle chose to disgrace herself.

  * * * * *

  Several hours later Wyle led both Marian and her mother up the stairs. “That was masterful, Lady Elizabeth. You could have had every male in attendance signed up to go off to war if you had continued.”

  “I spoke no more than the truth.”

  “But not all of it, fortunately,” Marian said. “By directing attention toward Papa, no one even thought about Charlotte.”

  “Yes, your father. He had better come home unscathed or I’ll kill him myself.” She whisked into her room and left the couple laughing in the hall.

  “And now, my lady. Shall we?”

  “We must hold the record for the longest wait between wedding and bedding.”

  He paused to kiss her on the threshold of his suite. “And it was well worth the wait, every moment of it.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Marian came out of the back door of Fair Oaks carrying a letter which she read as she walked and almost tripped on the blanket where Wyle lounged eating a bowl of grapes while he watched Hill, Charlotte, Henry, the count and Louisa playing croquet.

  “News from the front?”

  “Mother has finally caught up to Papa in Paris. This time she vows she will bring him home but she sounds happy.” Marian sank down beside him and he put a grape into her mouth.

  “So it all turned out well, almost like a fairy tale.”

  “Against all odds and mostly by chance, yes we are all as happy as we can possibly be in a world ravaged by war. Oh, here is a letter for you.”

  “This must be from Frobisher.” He popped the seal. “But not our little corner of it. And it wasn’t by chance that your father advised me to trust you. He was right. You are equal to anything.”

  “I certainly hope so. What news?”

  “They actually saw a bit of action and acquitted themselves well. They remain in Paris. He’s sorry I missed all the excitement. Hah! If only he knew.”

  Hill and Charlotte approached, him shyly and her with excitement writ large on her face.

  “Sir, I fear I have presumed beyond my station,” he said.

  “Father, must I have a come out? Can I not just marry Lewis now rather than waiting for the season. His father wants to perform the rite.”

  “Sir, I spoke ahead of myself.”

  “Easy, Hill, do you really think I would have dangled you in front of my daughter without the hope that you two would one day make a match of it? Charlotte, you have my leave to marry from the schoolroom if you wish. This will chagrin Cousin Isabelle who would have delighted to show Sophie off at your come out ball.”

  Hill looked surprised, then relieved.

  “I don’t care for such stuff,” Charlotte said.

  Marian smiled. “You will be a hit anyway and we will have a ball after your wedding just like your father and I had. You will be the most beautiful young matron of the season. Poets will swoon over their lost chance with you.”

  “Perhaps I will be with child by then and can give the whole thing a miss. Come, Lewis, we must tell your parents.” Charlotte ran off before either of them could comment o
n her indelicate remark. Hill flushed and ran after her.

  Now Henry trudged toward them. “The game is falling apart. Mother is going off with Charlotte talking about dresses but the count promised to teach me fencing. Is that all right? I mean I know he’s French but he doesn’t seem like the enemy.”

  “By all means. The man has the patience of a saint, so I’m sure he will do well with you. But do not tax his arm. It has only started to heal properly.”

  The count waved and went off toward the stable with Henry who was answering him in broken French.

  “Well, Captain Wyle. The field is ours. Perhaps we should just wait the season out here.” She lay back with her head in his lap hoping for another grape.

  “You were never one to flaunt your victory but why so shy of the ton?”

  “Even if Charlotte will not be increasing by then, I am and all those balls might interfere with feeding the baby.”

  He gasped and laid his ruined right hand over her still-flat stomach. He did it reverently as though he could not believe his good fortune. “One thing every commander learns is to communicate the position to us poor subalterns as soon as she knows it. Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I wanted to wait for the right moment or when we even had a spare moment. Our life is almost as busy now as before we came to Fair Oaks. Even after we were married, we had very little time together with the preparations for the ball. Then you had to ruin it by announcing we had eloped and married.”

  “Only to keep Isabelle from defaming you. Besides we thus avoided another round of parties.”

  “True. I fear we will become hermits here. Never have I enjoyed a place so much.”

  “Not even your own home?” he asked.

  “That was always work with the specter of Cole looming over me. He ruined it for me. But Mother has put it to rights and filed an action against the solicitor who overstepped his bounds. I find myself in awe of her penchant for justice.”

  “You didn’t tell her we let your cousin go?”

  “No. I’d rather think of him scrabbling for a living than disgracing us.”

  “I have not seen that prim governess face for weeks now. I rather enjoyed that disapproving scowl from time to time. It made me sit up and take notice.”

  “I’m through with playing a part. I’ll save the stern face for our children when they have disobeyed us.”

  He drew her into his arms and kissed her, knowing that life with Marian might be fraught with schedules and lessons but it would never be dull. And now there would be more children. He relished the role of father even more than he’d liked the job of soldiering. He would be creating rather than destroying. And he thought their brood would be lively and intelligent. Would they all have Marian’s penchant for throwing herself into danger? It would be interesting to find out.

  About the Author

  Barbara Miller teaches in the Writing Popular Fiction program at Seton Hill University. She has published mysteries, young adult novels, and historical romances, including one nominated for a Rita. She lives on a farm with her husband and a pack of unruly dogs.

  Barbara welcomes comments from readers. You can find her website and email address on her author bio page at www.ellorascave.com.

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  An Ellora’s Cave Romantica Publication

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  Governess for a Week

  ISBN 9781419919794

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

  Governess for a Week Copyright © 2009 Barbara Miller

  Edited by Helen Woodall.

  Cover art by Lissa Waitley.

  Electronic book Publication March 2009

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